The Best Decisions Are Made While Tipsy
by Samantha14
Summary: A conversation fic. Luke's dad just died. Lorelai brought beer.


**The Best Decisions Are Made While Tipsy**

I wrote a story called "Tears In Heaven" and made up one of those striking practically throw-away conversations that I just _had_ to broaden into a ficlet, so I did.

Gist: Luke, mid-20's, has recently lost his father. Lorelai, 21, is his very good friend. She convinces him to a make a very good decision. All ideas about anything are fake/actually from the show that they got rid of later 'cause it would make a better spin-off.

This is totally a throw-away piece, but I just HAD to write it. You know how it is. 

x

A smile softened Lorelai's features as Luke's sullen face appeared in the doorway of Williams Hardware. She waited for him to unlock the door and then pushed it open.

"Hey," she said, holding up a six-pack. "I brought beer."

He grabbed it from her and meandered through the aisles, finally winding up in aisle three. He plopped onto the floor, leaning against the nails, and she sat next to him. He set the beer on the other side of him and pulled out a bottle. Leaning forward to reach the other side of the aisle, he settled the edge of the bottle cap on the shelf, and then pushed down, popping it open. He handed it to her, and then repeated the process, this time for himself.

"How you doin'?" she asked, watching as he took a sip.

"Shitty," he said simply.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching her hand to rub in a circle on his back.

"Don't," he said, shrugging her off. Watching her expression, he sighed and then said, "Where's Rory?"

She took a sip of her own beer. "California. With her dad. Christopher," she added unnecessarily, throwing back her head to take a huge gulp of beer.

"Oh, right," he said softly, watching Lorelai's suddenly annoyed expression. "Isn't he trying to sue for joint custody?"

"Yep,"she nodded, gritting her teeth. "But, anyway." She smiled, leaning her head toward Luke, swinging her hair over her shoulder. "Did your sister call?"

"No," he sighed, an annoyed expression crossing his own face. "The hot dog king answered yesterday. Apparently," he started disgustedly, "Liz is 'busy running after a five-year-old'," he quoted. "Asshole," he complained, swigging his beer.

"Hey, just forget about them, okay? Just know that you were here for your dad, and he was very proud of you."

He was silent for a minute, and then groaned. "God, Lorelai." He set down his beer and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Don't _do_ that," he complained.

"Oh. Sorry." She stared at the screws across the aisle for a few minutes, allowing Luke his little alone time. After a reasonable amount of time, she gingerly asked, "What're you doin' with the house?"

"Um…selling. Putting my dad's stuff in storage."

She nodded, still staring at the screws. "And, um…where are you going to live?"

"I don't know. You think there's another potting shed at the Inn?" he asked, bitingly. Lorelai drew back from the insult.

"Luke," she whispered.

"I know," he sighed. "I'm just…shitty right now," he repeated, glancing quickly at her.

"Yep," she nodded, grinning, hoping to get them back on track. He grinned back, and knocked her shoulder with his own.

"Do they?" he asked. "Have another shed, I mean?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "Nope, just the one they weren't using." 

"Damn," he muttered. The both laughed, and then sank into a comfortable silence.

"What should I do with this place?" he asked suddenly, gesturing all around them. "I don't know the first thing about keeping a hardware store running. All the nails and screws and how do you know how much to order of this and that…. That was Dad's thing. The numbers. So, what should I do?" 

"Well," she started, discarding her bottle and leaning over him for a second, "what are you good at? Besides that," she added as he knocked her beer open.

"I don't know," he sighed, leaning forward and resting his hands on the bill of his cap.

She thought for a second, and then blurted out, "Coffee! You're good at coffee."

"I'm _not_ turning this into a coffee place," he protested. "They're all…hoity-toity."

She laughed at his choice of words and shook her head. "No, not a coffee place. A…diner. You _can_ cook, can't you?"

"Remember that hamburger at the funeral?" he asked, popping open his second beer.

"Oh, my God, that was the best hamburger I've ever had!"

"Yeah, I can cook," he nodded. "My mom taught me," he said quietly.

"See?" she said, softly reaching her arm to snake around his neck. "You can do this."

"A diner, huh?" he asked for clarification. As she nodded, he glanced around, and then nodded himself. "Okay."


End file.
